Category Archives: erotica

Masturbation Monday No. 217 — Witch, Inspired by @MollysDailyKiss

Damaris moved about New York City like an alien. She said that she had visited the city before, but she did not have Carole’s finesse in it.
“You know she looks like Carole, but she is not Carole…” Sabrina said to Gui, surveying him as he could not keep his eyes off of Damaris.
Damaris looked like Carole, except she was more golden. More polished. She’d had all the trappings of respectability, and Sabrina knew from Carole that Damaris had never been close to her. Sabrina felt like she could see beneath the other woman’s veneer. She did not like her around Harry, and she felt nervous for Gui even though he was already involved with her.
“She is not a witch at Salem!” Gui exclaimed in a soft whisper. “You are acting like she should be burned at the stake! I am not pretending that she is Carole…” “How could you not?!” Sabrina hissed, and turned to look at him watching Damaris wait on the line for the bathroom of the posh restaurant that Damaris had insisted on going to—treating them too.
Sabrina looked at him, and the tears in her eyes fell. Gui pulled her closed and kissed her mouth. She chewed on his lip, and closed her eyes for a moment cherishing their previous intimacy which served as a tenderness that she really needed at the moment.
“What does Harry think of her?”
Sabrina released his lip. As she was about to tell him, Damaris waved over at Gui. He smiled a small smile, and Sabrina knew exactly what was going to happen next. Without even looking at his crotch, Sabrina knew Gui’s tells and knew he was hard. Damaris did not own anything that obscured her Coca-Cola bottle shape, and easily enticed.
Gui followed her into the bathroom, and Sabrina had to get up behind him because they did not completely close the door behind them. Sabrina had to be the lookout—but she could not help but look in.
Look in at Damaris bent over the bathroom sink—fine porcelain sink, with faux-jeweled fixtures. Sabrina wondered where was the attendant, as Damaris displaced perfume bottles, candy and lotion as Gui plowed her. They went right at it because they were only there for seconds, before their naked pelvises were in action.
All of this was very beguiling, but it was Damaris’ reflection in the mirror that almost confirmed to Sabrina that Damaris was indeed some kind of witch!!!

More Masturbation Monday here. Look out for my other guest post later this week (check out the Sally Bend one!!!), as well as my Wicked Wednesday and Fleur Friday!!!

witch via Molly Moore

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Guest Blogger & Fellow Sister In Smut Sally Bend Talks Horror!!!

Sally Bend is my fellow Sister in Smut, and shares my love of horror! Obviously, Sally had to be a guest blogger around Halloween…so here is Sally!!! (think of The Shining, but much sexier as an intro!!!)

Although I usually write imaginative erotica, kinky tales of sin and submission, horror was my first literary love. I vividly remember the book that started it all, that copy of Stephen King’s Pet Sematary, sitting atop the paperback rack at the corner store. The colors, the lettering, the misspelled title, that cat staring back at me – I was absolutely enthralled. It did not take long for me to read through the works of King, Koontz, Matheson, and Masterton, before moving on to Laymon, Lumley, Skipp and Slade . . . and then sneaking home copies of the Hot Blood anthologies and feeling my entire world shift.

I never got farther than writing it – I was far too self-conscious to let anybody read it – but the first ‘adult’ or ‘mature’ short story I ever wrote was for that series.

So, why horror? And why erotic horror, in particular? Well, the truth is that I spent much of my life in hiding, burying my identity. I was so afraid of exposure, I practiced holding my emotions inside, lest they betray me, and I’m sad to say I got rather good at it. Unlearning those habits has not been easy, but writing allows me the freedom to express myself, and nowhere are passions and emotions stronger than in erotic horror.

Gender Swapped by the Haunted Brothel was my first work of erotic horror, and Fear, Love and Broken Things is my latest, but I stopped by today to talk about my twin tales, Alpha Surrender & Alpha Transformation . . .

Alpha Transformation excerpt

“Shit. Shit. Shit!” He scrambled at the walls, but it was no use. He could feel cracks and seams sliding beneath his fingers, but the walls were so slimy, there was no way he could find purchase. Instead, he kept sliding down until suddenly there was nothing beneath him. His heart dropped into his stomach as he fell through the air, crashing down into a hidden reservoir of water several feet below.

Even as he scrambled upwards, his head breaking the surface with a desperate gasp, he recognized how clean the water was. It smelled and tasted of that same rich, loamy smell he had noted above. It was sheer madness to drink it, of course, but he’d already swallowed enough in his fall to kill him if it were poisoned, and all he felt was stronger, more alive than ever before.

Better yet, as bobbed there, slowly treading water, he found his eyes slowly adjusting to the green glow of the luminous moss that covered the ceiling. It was hardly a bright glow, but having grown up in the darkness of the Church slums, it was rather comforting. Almost like being back home with Brandi.

“What was that?” Something had brushed his leg from below. He stared into the water, twisting and turning about to see all around, but the ripples he generated made it impossible to see anything. Twice more he felt something brush his leg, and each time it seemed to rise higher than the last. That strange, alien touch terrified him, and yet it left behind a pleasurable tingle.

That’s when it pulled him under.

With his head beneath the water, he could see a pair of green tentacles wrapped around his legs. They were so startling, so unexpected, that he was momentarily distracted from his panic – until they coiled about him, slithering from ankle to thigh, until suddenly they were holding him under. He thrashed against them, desperate to escape, but they simply held him in place. They didn’t squeeze or pull any farther, they just held him there.

Just as he was about to black out, they seemed to thrust him upwards, allowing him a gasping breath of air, before pulling him back under. This time they pulled his legs apart, leaving him awkwardly splayed beneath the water. He reached down to grab one, to yank it off his leg, but his hands slid right off. Bent over as he was, though, he could see the new tentacle slowly rising up from below, coming up between the other two.

Another thrust, another breath, and he was back down below.

This time he found a fourth tentacle waiting, floating before him, the slender tip of its appendage bent in a come-hither kind of motion. He instinctively knew what it wanted, but there was no way he could do it.

He was an Alpha. He loved, he embraced, he penetrated.

It didn’t work the other way around.

That tentacle darted in faster than he could blink and expelled a bubble of fresh, earthy air against his lips. He reflexively sucked it in and found himself refreshed. When the tentacle below began gently stroking his balls, though, he just as quickly lost that breath in an exclamation of surprise.

Fortunately, the face tentacle, as he was coming to think of it, was there to feed him another bubble.

Stephen simply floated there, several feet below water, held in place by tentacles that wanted something of him he had never given another. He and Brandi had talked about surrendering to the Beast, but that was for a purpose. That was to obtain the cure. That was to save Brandi’s life.

Really, though, was this any different? If he didn’t surrender, he would die here, his body forever lost to befoul the wondrous waters. He was an Alpha, but that had to mean more than just being on top, being dominant, being in control. The desires of women like Brandi were as alien to him as these tentacles, but it occurred to him now that always being in charge was exhausting. It had been years since he’d last let down his guard, half a lifetime since he hadn’t felt the comforting burden of caring for another life.

This time, when the tentacle delivered its bubble of clean air, it remained there, pressed against his lips, waiting for an invitation. It meant surrender. It meant giving himself up to an intimacy he neither wanted nor needed, but one that would allow him to save the one he loved. The other tentacle was becoming more insistent as well, pressing its tip against his anus, not poking inside, just sitting there against the tightness of his entrance.

To surrender was to lose something of himself, but to resist was to doom two lives to a lonely, painful death.

Sally Bend is a genderfluid author and reviewer of erotica, romance, and genre fiction who loves dragons, unicorns, ancient treasures, dominant women, and pretty boys.

AND!!!

For Halloween, you can get Sally’s books…

FOR FREE!!!

Fleur Friday No. 20 — Putting Out Fires

It was not until they were blocks away and settled into another dark bar, did it seem like Jeanne or Terrence was able to breathe.
Spotting Rafe, and what had to be Eliza—her sister had told her that Ingrid was out of town at a conference after all. There it was, Eliza told her everything about her life, and Jeanne still had not told her about Terrence. Had not told her that she was sort of seeing him. This was in fact their first outing tonight, and they had thought that it was going to be safe because it was such a secret location.
Not as secret as they had thought clearly…
Jeanne’s skin was still on fire from having sat so close to Terrence before, and sitting close to him again at the bar the fire raged again over her.
“I’m sorry,” Terrence said, and wrapped his arms about her.
“You have nothing to apologize about…” Jeanne said softly, and looked up at him.
Their faces were so close that here in this bar instead of sitting close enough to fuck, they kissed and immediately her lips and between her legs were on fire again. She might not have told Eliza a thing, but that did not mean that she had to stay away from Terrence. Did not mean that they could not progress, that they could not move further than they were.
In a dark corner at the other bar, they had barely touched. But at this bar, right at the bar, Jeanne had stood and was half dry humping him. The Catwomanesque black pants that she wore made it easy for her to press herself to his thigh, and she was sure that if she kept at it she would come right there.
But she wanted to come with him in a more intimate manner and clearly Terrence felt the same way, because he stood up while she was in the middle of debating if she should keep going.
“Are they here too?” she purred, half seriously.
Terrence wheezed, and pulled her close to him.
“We need to go somewhere else, isn’t that what you were telling me?”
Jeanne looked up at him, and he kissed her nose.
How did he make her feel like she was in a fairy tale and the dirtiest story ever, all rolled up into one?

More Fleur Friday here

catwoman via wikipedia

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Wicked Wednesday #334 — Halloween

Eliza was completely veiled in black, Rafe led her like she was some sort of royalty. She walked slowly behind him. A combination of the pills she had taken without him knowing—he was worried about her pain meds, but there was nothing for him to worry about and she was in a mood where she almost snapped at him what difference did it make to him? She was not his responsibility anymore.

But she did not.

A combination of the pills, exhaustion and of the pleasure of Rafe leading her, made her strut slowly. This way she got to see him as well, and he looked dashing as ever. When did Rafe ever not look dashing?

They walked into the restaurant, where everyone else was in some array of covered—Rafe wore a lace mask that matched her veil. He sat next to her in the booth, and she put her head on his shoulder.

She shivered when his cool hand slipped under her dress. This party was a Halloween party of sorts, at a premiere sex club.

Anything was allowed.

She and Rafe had attended this party before, when they were a new couple. Now that they were not getting married, they dated like they did when they were a new couple. Her thoughts drifted, as his hand moved further up her thigh.

“What can’t I do to you?” he questioned softly, his fingers at the door of her sex.

Eliza shifted, and parted her legs more.

“You can do whatever you like.”

His fingers slipped into her, she closed her eyes tightly and then opened them. There were a lot of couples there, but some aroused her curiosity more than others as she stared about the room not to bring attention to what she and Rafe were doing.

Like the couple where the woman sat on the man’s lap, dry fucking him with such discretion that if you were not paying attention you would not notice.

Another couple was not touching, but they were sitting so close it was like their skin fucked from their proximity. Eliza’s eyes settled on that couple, and she realized she recognized the man.

She knew his jaw, she knew his expressions even with a mask. The woman clung to him, her face obscured by his chest and Eliza closed her eyes again as Rafe made her come so violently, she knocked over her scotch. Rafe laughed as the waiter came over to clean up, and pulled Eliza up while he was at it.

“Come on, it is time to go somewhere a little more private.”

Still feeling the slight tremors of her orgasm, Eliza followed him. Secretly, she looked back to where Terrence was.

He was gone, as she had asked him to be from her view months ago. Even though she had broken up with him, it did not feel nice to see him with another woman oblivious to her even though she was veiled in black.

She knew him.

The same way it did not feel nice to not be with Rafe, and still be with him. He would be inside her hot and she would feel him burning her in a moment…and still feel cold in the distance of her body…

More Wicked Wednesday here, stay tuned for Fleur Friday tomorrow!

Want to read more of the hottest erotica out there?! Click here!

Spooky Silhouette & Ghosts– A Meme Combo!!!

Still on her knees, Sabrina had not cared that Damaris was watching her and Harry in the shadows like a spooky silhouette while they made love. Her silhouette was not even that spooky, it was just so hidden.
At first.
Sabrina opened her eyes, when she heard the door crack open more and heard the heaviness of Damaris approaching on the carpet. Damaris was in a robe with nothing underneath, her full figure was revealed in all of its glory. Harry paused—as he would have had to because it was not supposed to be a threesome.
Was that what Damaris wanted?
Sabrina watched her sprawled over the couch, her glistening crotch open under her fingers. Damaris used her own come to rub over her nipples, as she watched them.
Did she want to join them?
“Don’t stop,” Damaris sighed, eyes closed tightly. “don’t stop!” Harry spanked Sabrina, and continued to plough her. At that point, Sabrina was again driven by the feeling of him inside her. His strokes hit every hunger point of hers deep inside, and she moved against him with desperation that she could not fathom. She was with him, why was she acting like she was going to imminently lose him?
A quiet whistle, let them know that Damaris had come. She threw her body over the couch, and wrapped herself in her robe.
In Sabrina’s robe.
Later, Sabrina got out of bed with Harry. She still felt that desperate sensation that she did not want to let him go. Had she missed him that much, even though she had been haunted by the ghosts of previous lovers while she was in London?
It felt like her sexual ghosts followed her everywhere. She was not able to shake them, dark shadows bobbing in her head all of the time.
A dark shadow flew past her, and she realized it was Damaris.
Sabrina let her stay with them in Harry’s apartment. Damaris had not wanted to sleep alone, because she was afraid to. She did not need to tell Sabrina anything really, she would not want to sleep alone is she was Damaris. Her sister had died, and she was in a foreign country in a strange man’s apartment.
Naked and sweaty, Sabrina cornered Damaris.
“Why did you watch us?”  Damaris looked like a phantasm in the moonlight.
“Because I did not want to be alone, I did not want to grieve alone…thank you for letting me…watch…” Sabrina felt a chill go through her, as Damaris went into the bathroom and she felt the other woman’s grief like a body.

More Masturbation Monday here, more Friday Flash here and more Kink of the Week here. I will have another semi-spooky tale for you later this week with my Wicked Wednesday!

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(Flash &) Fleur Friday No. 19 — Santa Muerte (Death)

Death filled Jeanne’s thoughts in the most unusual way. First she saw the Santa Muerte in the window of the shop that she passed when she walked home. She thought how she wanted le petite mort from Terrence, she was throbbing so hard between her legs. Now that she had cemented her relationship with her sister, she wanted to cement her relationship with Terrence…even if she had not told Eliza about the two of them.
She and Terrence were not even a them yet…
Yet.
When she got to her apartment, she saw Mal. She ran full-speed to him, and wrapped her legs about his waist.
“You’re back!” she said, as he cradled her backside which made her throb all the more.
He kissed her neck, and Jeanne closed her eyes rolling her body in response to his kiss.
Mal followed her upstairs, and she opened the door with his arms about her waist.
He had gone to Paris, and she had not seen him for weeks. She had not expected to get involved with Terrence, while he was away. Now she was dating two men, and for a woman who had spent such a long period of time alone…it was odd for her to have choices. The choice to have Mal back handing her a small velvet black pouch with one hand, and delivering her a wild orgasm with his other hand.
She closed her eyes, and she could not help but think what it would be like to be in this same position with Terrence…

More Flash Friday here, more Fleur Friday here.

santa muerte via f dot leonora

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Wicked Wednesday #333 — Purple (Bruise)

Eliza rubbed a minute purplish splotch on her thigh, that she had not know was there and Rafe promptly kissed it.
And other places.
She was pretty certain that they had sex more now that he was engaged to Ingrid. Ingrid went on a lot of conferences, and Rafe basically lived with her when she was away or vice versa.
She gasped loudly, when Rafe’s tongue hit her clit. He was not adverse to giving head, but he was definitely more up for it than he ever had been and she was not complaining!
He kissed the very inside of her thighs, and lathed her labia with his tongue. Since he knew her body as well as she did, without even an effort he made her come and he was not done.
Rafe did not stop licking her, and she squirmed because she was sensitive from her first orgasm and he was not giving her a choice on the estimated arrival of the next.
Her legs parted wider, he spread her ass cheeks and the sheets stuck to her anus. She was sticky wet and feverish from his attention.
She could not look down, because looking down at him giving her head would make her come even faster so she stared up at the ceiling and moaned. Her body shook, and her legs practically fluttered.
Eliza slumped with pleasure, but also with grief when Rafe’s tongue touched the faint purple spot on her skin. Her skin was bruised, but so was her heart. Even though they were making love, they were not getting married anymore. She was not his primary anymore. And after all of these years that she had been with him, she never thought that they were not going to be married. And it did not even help that a part of her was happy they were not getting married, another part of her was just mad that she was not the chosen one anymore.
“What is the matter?” he asked, stroking her thigh.
She looked down at Rafe, which she had been trying not to do not because of how he made her body feel, but because of how her heart felt.
Bruised.

More Wicked Wednesday here. Friday is Fleur Friday! Do you like spanking and voyeurism—you might like my latest Masturbation Monday. Also E-Lust included my “Sexy Maid” post this month—read it and more sexy articles here!

purple via wicked wednesday

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Masturbation Monday No. 215 — Caught In His Web (Inspired by @sub_bee)

Harry’s arm was about her waist before he bent her over the coffee table. This was a familiar and comfortable position for Sabrina, and she settled into it with ease. She ran her hand over the side of her breast, and she felt a crack like lightning on her backside plus just a sliver of her pussy. She heard and felt the slight suction from how wet she was from his smack.
And then another one, catching still just another sliver of her pussy. She moaned even before she knew she was moaning, but she felt it vibrate through her body, and as he continued to spank her. Her breasts crushed to the glass of the coffee table, Sabrina tried not to wiggle underneath his punishment.
Was it even punishment?
He did not like her to play with herself when he was going to fuck her, and she had played with her breasts so he had smacked her. But he also knew that she loved to be spanked while he was fucking her so it was just super intense foreplay. Each smack catching that sweet bit of her pussy, making her moan and almost beg him to fuck her. But she knew if she begged him, he would never give her what she wanted. So she eased into his hand caressing her ass, and a sense of security before—
CRACK!
Another slap like lightning and he still caught her wet labia. Sabrina bit her lip so she would not cry out in pleasure and pain. Harry fingered her, and she knew what she was soaking wet. She could barely feel his finger in the puddle of her own come. Her own come, which Harry used to finger her asshole before he finally entered her.
Moving in such a way, she was afraid that she was going to break the glass of the coffee table, Sabrina tried to be delicate, but it felt too good. She lost control, and then out of the corner of her eye…out of the corner of her eye she saw Damaris looking at her. The door to Harry’s was cracked—how did she find them?—and Damaris played with herself as she watched her get fucked. Sabrina could smell Damaris’ heat above her own she was sure.
But she did not care. Harry was fucking her, and that was the only thing that mattered to her at that moment.
At any moment…

More Masturbation Monday here. Later this week, check out my Wicked Wednesday and Fleur Friday!

web via Sub-Bee

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Masturbation Monday No. 214/Friday Flash No. 26 — Tentacles

Sabrina stared at Damaris, whose hands were firmly between her legs.
Damaris smiled softly.
“I do not mean like that Sabrina!” she exclaimed. “I meant to sleep with me like Carole used to when we were young. I miss her so much you know?” 
Sabrina nodded and pulled a blanket over Damaris whose eyes closed and breath deepened almost immediately. Grief left her features a little in sleep, and Sabrina could not help but to sit beside Carole’s sister and hum a soft lullaby for her.
Damaris was completely snoring when Harry walked into the room.
Sabrina stood up immediately and walked into his embrace. He caressed her lips, and she could taste the tears on them.
“Are you alright baby?” he asked, and Sabrina cried into his chest.
She was not even sure where the tears came from in that moment, but she was so filled with emotion suddenly.
Or was it just because she missed him so much? He turned her chin up, and kissed her tear-splashed lips. Sabrina wrapped her arms about him in complete surrender. Her arms and legs surrounded him like she was an octopus. She craved more limbs to embrace him all the more.
Harry’s hands cradled her bottom, and he carried her out of the room. Damaris’s sleeping breath became a whisper, as he closed the door with his own derriere. He pressed Sabrina to the wall, and she kissed his neck with suction like her tongue was the limb of an octopus.
“I want you…” Harry said, and she could feel him tremble under his words and her sucking kisses.
“I cannot leave her in the apartment. If she wakes up…”
“Then here, quickly—we can hear her snoring Sabrina.”
She nodded with parted lips, her own breath deepening as Harry kissed her into oblivion and she pulled up her own dress up because she wanted him too.
“Quick, but not too quick…” she crooned, the hardness of Harry’s belt buckle against replaced with the hardness of his thick shaft against her.
It was good to be home!

More Masturbation Monday here, more Friday Flash here. Today I wrote my first post for the Sisters In Smut blog which you can read here! Later this week my Wicked Wednesday and Fleur Friday, and a special guest post!

photo by f dot leonora

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Guest Blogger and Fellow Sister In Smut Dr. J Takes Us to Destination Bordello!!!

I love having my Sisters In Smut come to visit on my blog, and in person (hint, hint Dr. J!). Dr. J is an AMAZING storyteller, she knows how to stimulate every sense that we have and make us connect with her words. There is nothing more for me to say–this is her post!

How do you find ideas to create sexy stories?

If you hang out with a group of lively, smutty writer friends, they can come from anywhere. Mischa Eliot and I were going back and forth on a Twitter DM discussing story ideas. I shared that living on an island rich with pirate history and wenches, of course, piqued my creative juices.

In the late 1800’s, at a time when the new world was growing, my island was a transportation hub. As such, businesses flourished including brothels and bordellos. I wanted to verify that information as a fact since one of the road names in the old section of town was called Ladies Street, touted for all the bordellos there. My efforts at the local museum to document this failed. But I expanded my search and dug a little further and found a surprising inspiration. And with that spark, I created Destination Bordello.

This story is located exclusively on Radish Fiction. Download their app from the Apple or Google Play Store to read. I serialize the story Destination Bordello there. Writing in this manner is different than writing a novel. I create a new episode each week. In the first episode, I share my inspirational insights. Let me introduce to the main characters Laney and Carlton and their unusual situation.

As Laney Baynes lost her massage therapy lease, she received news from attorney Carlton Jarvis of a property conveyance. With a family bordello legacy revealed, Carlton helps Laney concoct a plan to gather money to pay off the back taxes and get her new practice established. How do they do it? They pull a page from history and find themselves lost in a contemporary setting of lust and fantasy at Destination Bordello.

Excerpt from Destination Bordello.

“People like to visit places they’ve never been, have experiences that might be a once in a lifetime experience. We had a small family ranch, and after my Dad died, we needed help. I came up with a ranch-cation idea. People lived there and worked the ranch. It helped us, and they had an adventure.”

“That makes perfect sense for your situation, but we’re talking about a building that housed a bordello.”

“I’m not suggesting you open for prostitution. Our firm holds the paperwork. I need not tell them how we are using the building during the transition. Instead, it’s a space for people to act out fantasies ‘as if’ they were in the bordello. They pay to come to this destination.”

Laney cocked her head and scrunched her face. “Like a destination bordello?”

“Yes.” She sighed and shook her head.

“I’d come to one, Laney.”

My eagerness for fixing a problem took over.

“Come on, let me show you this.”

I grabbed Laney’s hand and pulled her up the stairs.

I located the room with the hidden space. Adam and Eli’s muffled voices were nearby. “I found the books here.” I pulled a panel down and showed Laney the hiding space in the wall.

“Wow. It is secretive.” She reached out to touch it but pressed a panel above it which dropped opening a peephole into the next room.

As she tiptoed to peer inside, Laney slapped her hand over her mouth. She turned and nodded her head toward the hole for me to look.

What the hell?

Laney cupped her hands around my ear. “I can only see the tops of their heads. Are they role-playing?”

Her warm breath tickled my ear, and I wished I was role playing with her.

“I’m too short, tell me.” I leaned forward to look through the hole.

Eli walked around a kneeling Adam, and she smacked his butt. She continued her circle and loosened the top of her dress and exposed her lace covered breasts. She jiggled them in his face. I nodded my head at Laney.

“I want to see,” she whispered. Her eyes pleaded with me. How could I say no?

I motioned for her to stand in front of me and I lifted her up. My fingers brushed her side breast, and animal lust took over. When she leaned forward to look, her ass cushioned itself below my waist. I was on fire. After peering in, she patted my arm signaling me to set her down.

Sliding her down my body was glorious torture. When her feet touched the ground, she turned in my arms.

What did I see? Desire, longing, questions. I pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and she sighed. Because it felt natural, I pulled her into my arms and hugged her. She clutched me with a quiet moan. I rubbed her shoulders, and then my cock joined the show. She pulled back. With a crook of her finger, she motioned me to come forward. I bent, so we were nose to nose.

She whispered. “It makes me horny knowing what they are doing. I like to watch.”

Laney didn’t have to share that, but she had to know it affected me. Her words caused my desire to surge and reeved me up. I took her face in my hands and kissed her. Her lips and tongue took charge, and I met her stroke for stroke. She broke the kiss and moved her mouth by my ear. “Do you think this is what they used this space for, watching?”

I dropped my hands to her ass and squeezed while I shook my head yes.

“What they are doing now?” Without dropping my hold on her ass, I moved us closer to the wall, and I peeked inside.

“Tell me.”

“Adam is sucking Eli’s nipples, and her hand is between her legs.”

I ached to have my fingers inside Laney. As I had that thought, Laney reached behind me, grabbed my hand from her ass and placed my palm between us against the opening of her thighs. Her other massaged my cock. “I’m feeling naughty, Carl.” I wiggled my fingers against her, and she cooed.

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Dr. J. From Sex Therapist to Erotica Writer. ~Writing to arouse the mind and other parts. ~

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